


The Right of Divinity

by notyourparadigm



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Gen, PJSalt, alternative ending, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourparadigm/pseuds/notyourparadigm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Alternate Ending to Xenoblade Chronicles, so spoiler warnings for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begins from dialogue in Cutscene 155 - Confronting a God at 1:58 (Helsionium's Youtube)

Zanza looked down, although Shulk could not see his eyes. “I will have him serve as my new disciple. You will be granted eternal life, and unimaginable strength. Death will be but a fleeting afterthought.”

Melia stepped forward, disgust aflame in her eyes. “Are you so arrogant to believe that the High Entia... no, all life on Bionis, are nothing but your playthings?!”

“Playthings?” Zanza spoke the word softly, as if it were a foreign term.

“Yes. You don’t know how it feels to have slain my brethren after they had transformed into Telethia!”

“What are you talking about?” Zanza seemed to be smiling. “A Telethia is a High Entia’s true form. I did not transform them; I returned them. The Telethia are mere cells from my body. I conferred intelligence upon them on a mistaken whim, creating a primitive life form— the High Entia. They enjoyed a brief existence as sentient beings. For that they should be grateful.”

Dunban scoffed. “So this is the arrogance of a creator.”

"Arrogance is it?" That seemed to catch Zanza’s attention. "Hm. Perhaps you are not so far from the truth. You see, in every way that the High Entia were a mistake, I corrected in my creation of the Homs. For I fashioned them after myself more than any other being on Bionis. And my, what arrogant little insects you turned out to be.”

“So you’re saying us Homs are supposed to be like you?” Reyn gave a derisive snort. “Well ya didn’t do a very good job. We’re nothing like you.”

Zanza chuckled. “Your desire to defy me only proves it to be true. Unlike the High Entia, I created the Homs with the desire of creating a species capable of higher thought and sentience. A species that would evolve and progress, disturbing the stagnant pool of existence that the Bionis had become. It was… entertaining, for a while. Just like the Machina, the Homs evolved and became insolent to their own creator. But unlike Meyneth, I knew better than to grow affections for such lesser beings. For all that they are, all that they create and feel, all their memories and emotions… they are nothing but a mere parody of existence. My existence.”

Shulk felt his hand begin to shake, but he kept his grip firm.

“You’re wrong!” Sharla shook her head. “Our feelings, our memories… they are real! You may have created the Homs, but you didn’t create our feelings, or our hopes and dreams!”

“Those are all just by-products of a fantasy you Homs call free will. You all are arrogant enough to believe that your actions are decisions, and that your feelings are products of your own choices. You think that you all exist as individuals capable of choosing the destiny that befalls you. The truth is, you are merely spectators to the passage of fate determined by me. Fate is a plane of existence that gods walk upon, one which they interact with and change as they desire. But you… you all have no say in your future. Your fates were predetermined before any of you even drew breath.”

He turned to Reyn. “You were to be devoured by spiders, screaming and terrified in a dark cave.”

To Sharla. “You were to die alongside your dearest little brother in the jaws of a mechon, just like the rest of your colony.”

To Melia. “You were to die alone in a forest, from the wounds given to you by a Telethia... one of your own kind.”

To Dunban. “You were to fall to your doom, fighting with the traitorous man you once considered your friend.”

To Fiora. “You were to die in my final duel with Meyneth, perishing with the last beings of Mechonis as I wiped it from the face of this world.”

Finally he turned to Shulk, pointing his own Monado at him. “But you. You were the exception. By selecting you as my vessel, you surpassed the existence of just a mere Homs. By wielding the Monado, you transcended beyond the plane of existence of mortals, a plane that allowed you to tug at the fabric of fate.

“There is a reason why the Monado does not bend to the will of any user, why those unfit to wield it are affected by trying to use it. The Monado and it’s wielder extend into the plane of existence of divinity, the dimension of gods themselves. The feeble body of a Homs cannot exist in such a dimension for long. You may be a Homs, Shulk, but you are not just a Homs. Out of all of the Homs who have ever existed, you are the most akin to me.” Zanza smiled almost fondly. “And you have done much for me. You proved far more valuable than just a vessel... I never would have imagined I would defeat Meyneth so easily. It was thanks to you that I attained a second Monado. I will gladly take you as my new disciple, Shulk.”

“Never! I don’t want to be your vessel, or your disciple!” Shulk raised his own sword to Zanza’s face, staring down the ether beam into the eyes he couldn’t see. “I just want to live my life as a Homs. In a world without you!”

Zanza paused. “That is most regrettable. You could have entrusted all to me and attained peace. But perhaps the vision of mortals will ever remain… limited. Using one’s power to change the world… that is a right possessed only by gods!”

Shulk braced his stance, ready for the fight to begin at last, but to his surprise Zanza lowered his Monado, instead turning his gaze upwards.

“You heard him. Grant him his wish. Show him the power of the Homs he loves so dearly.”

A voice called out in answer. “So it shall be.”

“—Alvis?” Shulk barely had time to ask before he felt it, the same paralyzing surge of pain that had captured his body back in the Mechonis Core, when he had lost control of the Monado. Except, this time, it wasn’t the Monado. The sword in his hand was already discarded on the ground, next to his convulsing body. This time, the pain didn’t begin to subside after he dropped the sword, because it wasn’t coming from the sword. It didn’t seem to be coming from anywhere. For a moment, he thought he was having some sort of vision, as the world before him disappeared in the familiar streak of blue. But no vision came. In fact, there was nothing at all-- no sight, no sound, not even a remaining sting of pain. Shulk wasn't even sure that he had a body anymore.

Did anything still exist?

Did time even exist?

Did _he_ still exist?

_"Because... you're not here. Not anymore."_

For all he knew, a millennia had passed before he felt air in his lungs and heard Fiora calling his name. Not just Fiora— Reyn, Melia, more voices. Shulk existed again. There was ground beneath him, there was weight in his arms, bruises on his body. His eyes were open, straining to see… anything. He blinked once, twice-- nothing. Darkness where light should have been. He could feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest as he tried to convince himself not to panic.

He blinked again.

“Shulk!” Fiora's voice accompanied the hand on his back. Her touch felt sharp, almost like another shock of pain on his skin. "Shulk are you ok? Can you speak?”

“I…” He turned to face where the voice spoke. “I can’t…”

He choked on the word, Fiora giving a quiet noise of horror. She raised a hand to his face. “Shulk, your eyes…”

And then, as if to just spite their fears, Shulk saw a shimmer of gold. Two specks of blue. “Fiora.” He blinked again, and his eyes refocused on her quivering irises. "It's ok. I'm alright.”

A wave of relief washed over her expression, and Shulk tried to give her a resolute look as she helped him back onto his feet. But he immediately knew it wasn’t ok— something was very wrong. He felt something that was a bizarre hybrid of shrill dizziness and a dream-like stupor, barely even conscious of the world around him.

He looked up. Zanza was still there, silent and unfazed by the scene. “Unsettling, isn’t it?”

Shulk swallowed the knot in his throat, but said nothing.

“Oi, what did you do to him?!” Reyn growled.

Zanza smiled. “This.”

There was a flash of light, and it seemed as though the world itself slowed down. Shulk watched, frozen, as Zanza lifted his Monado above his head, a soft blue glow casting it alight. Reyn’s eyes widened, and he raised his arms as if to block the blow, but Shulk knew he was too slow. The blade struck him from the side in a horrifying crack of steel and bone, but without a noise from Reyn himself. His body was motionless, his guarder splintered at his side, painted with veins of red. Shulk didn’t have to guess that the wound would be fatal.

“Reyn, watch out!” Shulk’s voice sounded foreign to himself as he stared at Reyn’s motionless body. The vision hadn’t ended yet— but he needed to warn Reyn, to tell him to dodge the attack. He had to save his life. “Reyn, get out of the way!”

Reyn didn’t respond. He remained on the ground.

“Reyn!” The voice was unmistakably Sharla’s, and oddly pristine for a vision. Shulk didn’t take his eyes off of Reyn’s body. “Reyn, no!”

“ _Zanza_!” Dunban cried out, clearly fighting back the urge to charge at the god himself. Shulk blinked again.

“Reyn! Move!” Shulk wanted to run towards him, to block the blow himself if he had to, but his feet were immobile. He stared down at the replica Monado on his feet, mind stalling for thoughts. _I have to save him. I don't have much time._ “I'll protect you, I’ll—!”

Melia and Dunban turned to him, horror sewn into their expressions. Shulk's eyes turned to them, to Reyn, and back to the ground. It felt as though reality was suspended somewhere, that time was frozen in a sickly moment right as he was about to fall out of this bizarre vision.

"No! No no no... Reyn talk to me, you can’t—” Sharla was still crying. “Not you too… Reyn! REYN!”

But it wasn't a vision.

Shulk felt his blood run cold. _They didn't take my sight, they took my visions._

"Now do you understand?" Zanza looked at his Monado as he spoke. "Without the power granted to you, your fates would have been sealed long before today. Homs are but mortals, destined to follow the tides of fate that I create. If this is the life you choose, Shulk— a life as a Homs— then prepare for any moment to be your last.”

A noise of pain escaped Shulk's throat, but he couldn't find any words.

Zanza was right. He couldn't change the future, because he never had the chance to see it. He was powerless to help Reyn, because he never had any power to begin with.

_All this time... the only reason we've survived this long was because of my visions. We would've died a hundred times over. Xord... Mumkhar... Egil... they would've killed us with ease. We... we never actually stood a chance._

Shulk had never honestly considered the possibility of failure before. When he had the Monado, sacred sword of the Bionis, it felt as though nobody could stand in his way— but Zanza had taken that from him.

Even without the Monado, it seemed like he could still change the course of the future, defy the "fate" he was given, thanks to his Visions—but now Zanza had taken those from him too.

And even then, at the end of all things, despite his own self-doubt at his weaknesses, his friends were always there beside him, giving him strength, believing in him, trusting in him to succeed.

—and now, Zanza had taken Reyn.


	2. Chapter 2

"ZANZAAAAA!" The name felt like an inferno in Shulk's throat. He could only see the blur of red and gold in front of his face as he ran forwards, the Machina's Monado leading his charge. There was a faint recognition of the sound of Dunban and Fiora calling out his name, but the time for words was over. He had already begun to swing the sword before his feet had even left the ground, but Zanza was ready for the attack. His lungs were searing with rage, his muscles no longer hindered with thoughts of caution, heaving the full force of his body into the attack— and then another attack, and then another, and then another. And each were deflected just as readily, although with none of the passion to match. With each of his blows parried, Shulk could feel his focus momentarily slip, his mind brought back to moments without the consuming rage, without the torment, without Zanza, or any Gods at all.

_“Man, what were you doing wandering off by yourself?” asked Reyn, putting away the Scrap Driver that Shulk had made for him. He shook his head in worry, but there was half a smile on his face. “Stay where I can keep an eye on you.”_

“Give— him— BACK!” Shulk grunted, each word accentuated with a swing, and each swing parried with ease.

_Next time you have a vision, you tell us,” said Reyn, his face cross and filled with worry. “We bear the burden together, as a team.”_

“You… ngh—!” Zanza swatted Shulk to the ground, cutting off his sentence, but he managed to brace his fall. “—bastard!” 

_"What did I tell you?" Reyn was grinning. “You and me can make anything happen.”_

This time Zanza replied to the assault with a blast of ether from his Monado, knocking Shulk off his feet. His legs quivered as he picked himself up. “He… he was my friend! My best friend!”

_"Ain't you learnt yet, Shulk? How many times do I have to tell ya? If something's up, you've got to spit it out, man!” Reyn slapped him on the back, knocking the wind out of him._

He gasped as he hit the ground, already painfully aware of the gashes and bruises forming on his back from the Monado’s blow.

_Reyn looked him firmly in the eyes, flashing a confident smile. ”Let's get one thing straight. I've still got your back."_

This time it wasn't rage blurring Shulk's vision-- it was tears. 

“Why?!” Shulk's voice broke as he shouted. “You had no right—! Why?! Why kill him?!”

Zanza laughed, deflecting a last, half hearted attack, as though they were playing some sort of friendly sport. “I have the only right. Only Gods have the right to decide who lives and who dies. I thought you understood this by now, Shulk.”

“No!” Shulk meant the word to be a cry of denial, but it felt more like a plea. “We don't just live and die because you decide it! Our future is our own!”

“Then come, Shulk!” Zanza lowered both Monados, presenting himself in a defenceless stance. “Strike me down. Show me that you control your own future. Show me what a mere Homs can do!”

Shulk's muscles seized up at the beckoning, incapable of even wiping the trail of tears from his face. A shiver passed over him. _I... I'm not even a threat to him anymore. Without the Monado, without my visions... I'm nothing._ Those powers hadn’t even been his own to begin with— they were Zanza’s. _I’ve always been nothing._

He had never realized how heavy the Machina’s sword felt in his hands "I..."

"Don't try to intimidate us," Dunban's voice was calm, but his icy expression betrayed his true emotions. "We already know that you are not omnipotent. How else would the High Entia have sealed you away for so long on Prison Island?"

_That's right._ Shulk felt a flicker of hope in his heart for the briefest of moments. _But I was the one who let him free._

“Imprisoned?” Zanza asked, half a laugh on his breath. “I was merely... resting there for a while. Waiting for my vessel to be born— the vessel that would come and release me, as I have seen in Visions. And in visions I have shown him since the day he took up my blade in his hand.”

Zanza looked down at Shulk with a sly smile. It was enough to make his head spin. _He’s been using me… manipulating me, this whole time. He… fuelled my desire to destroy all the Mechon... just as he tried to do, before the battle with Meyneth. Even indirectly, he’s been controlling me... ever since that day, in Ose Tower..._

Shulk went back to the earliest memories he could recall. Colony 9. Dickson. The Monado. Stories of his parents. Were they truly the reason why he wanted to study the Monado? Or was that Zanza whispering into his ear too, pushing a young orphan to try to find some purpose in his life, in his parents' deaths?

_They died so Zanza could get to me. Dickson raised me into exactly the sort of person Zanza needed me to be..._

The more he thought about his past, the more Shulk began to realize the true depth of   Zanza's web of influence. His visions had always led him to pursue revenge— to Mumkhar, to Egil, to Zanza. That first Mechon attack... Fiora's death and rebirth... even the first time he had used the Monado had probably been decided by Zanza.

_"I've got it! You were chosen. By the Monado."_

_"Because... you're not here. Not anymore."_

Shulk would have given anything to make the voices stop. Were they all Zanza? Were his memories even his own anymore? Or were they, too, corrupted by His influence? He began to wonder if there was any part of himself that Zanza hadn't influenced.

_If... if I had killed Egil... would Zanza and I even exist as separate beings? Would he have taken control of me, the same way he did Arglas? Can we even exist without each other?_

"Shulk?! Shulk, snap out of it!" It was Fiora, grasping onto his wrist tightly, as if it were the hilt of a blade. He couldn't help but look at her with doubt too, pain inching through his body like acid in his veins.

_It was my feelings for you that first made me leave the Colony, first made me want to kill all the Mechon. Are even those feelings real? Or... is it just Zanza again? His desire for Meyneth... and her Monado. Are my feelings for Fiora just artifacts of his lust for power, projected onto Meyneth's vessel?_

“Pull yourself together, Shulk!” Dunban grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Focus on this moment! We cannot let our thoughts of Reyn cloud our minds now, or else our efforts have been for naught.” 

_Reyn._ Dunban's words felt like tiny raindrops in his thoughts-- try as he did to pay attention to them, each disappeared as quickly as it was said _. What are we even fighting for anymore?_

Shulk couldn't help but wonder if Zanza could read minds too, for he chuckled almost knowingly. “Come, Shulk. Raise your sword. I know that you aren't destined to die giving up.”

“But I am destined to die,” Shulk said. It was not a question. 

“Are you? I did give you a choice. Become my disciple, and to you death will be but a tool with which to chisel the world as you wish.”

Shulk's eyes crawled back to Reyn. 

“Is that the same promise you gave Dickson?” asked Dunban. “Or did he know that becoming your disciple would still mean his own demise?”

Zanza did not even look at Dunban– his focus remained fixed upon Shulk. “Dickson was a valuable asset to me over these centuries. He knew his fate would be to live in service to me for as long as he was useful—Lorithia as well. The only one that posed a threat to them was me... and those who serve as extensions of myself.”

_I could kill them only because of Zanza’s connection to me. The powers Zanza had given me._ Shulk spoke quietly, “If I die, what happens to you?”

“Shulk!” Dunban snapped at him, but his expression ached more with distress than anger.

“Nothing.” Zanza answered, so calmly, as if he had expected the question.

_A bluff? “_ So do you plan to kill me, then?”

“The Homs known as Shulk will die today, one way or another. _How_ is up to you.”

Riki bounded forwards, between Shulk and Dunban. For a moment, Shulk had to consider the oddity of the Nopon, nearly forgotten amongst the Gods, Homs, and High Entia. Zanza seemed to not even see him as he spoke. “Riki say Hom Hom future belong to Hom Hom! If Zanza know future, why not know what Shulk choose? Riki think Shulk listen to friends,not evil god who want eat friends like smelly orluga!”

_Evil...?_ Shulk pondered the word. _Is… that what Zanza is? Evil?_

A simple question, and yet he had no answer to it. No resounding voice of confidence in his mind replied, urging him to kill, or to show mercy. Instead, there was silence. How was he was so certain that Zanza was evil?

Once, he had thought that the Mechon were evil too. They killed Fiora, destroyed his home, threatened the entire existence of the Bionis and its life... but, he couldn't call them "evil" now. His own perspective had betrayed him, made him think only of his own suffering.

_The Homs have only existed for but an instant compared to Zanza... how are they so sure that he is “evil”? Are his goals any more selfish than their own? He was doing what would ensure his survival, just as they opposed him for their own survival. By what right do they judge his actions?_

His head drew back to Fiora. Her lips were moving slowly, pleadingly. It was almost distracting enough to part him from his thoughts. 

_If Zanza has visions too, that means... he knew what the world would become, and knows what the world will become. Who is anyone to say they know better than a god?  Is he not the only person who should make decisions about the future? The opinion of the Homs is meaningless by comparison..._

Zanza made a sudden sound, but Shulk couldn't tell if the tone was disgust or pity; with Zanza the two seemed so similar. “What a pathetic creature...” “I should have wiped your species from existence long ago.” 

No sooner did Shulk see the iridescent glow of ether begin pour from Zanza's Monado than did his legs find their strength again, bringing him between the attack and Riki in a burst of energy, leaving him with no choice to deflect the blow himself. His sword vibrated ferociously from the impact, but the resonance only seemed to energize his muscles more.

_And yet... I move to oppose him all the same._ There was no hesitation in his action. There was no thought, either-- at least, not a conscious one. But there was _something_. Something that drove Shulk; something that knew Zanza's power was one of oppression, not one of righteousness. _What is it? Just my instinct to survive?_

It seemed as though Shulk didn't have time to contemplate– Dunban, Melia, Fiora, and Sharla drew up beside Riki, weapons brandished and ready for battle. 

“You’ve played with our lives for the last time, Zanza!” said Sharla, peering down the sights of her rifle. “This time, it’s your turn to face extinction.”

There was a bang, a rush of movement, and Shulk stood frozen as the battle began around him in a flurry of attacks and ether from both sides.


End file.
